Commercialized blogs (and a bedtime story)

I just finished writing an advertorial and saw a comment from an old reader lamenting the fact that my blog seem to have lost its soul. You know, I agree with him/her. I sat down earlier today, and I had two options, doing a standard post or one I REALLY wanted to write about (File Under: Bedtime Stories).

A lot of bloggers hold back from writing what they really want for fear that clients would desert them (Oh, sex, we can’t have that, coz people might be CONFUSED) and this really limits your creativity.

I believe that we should reclaim our blogs, write what we want and if some clients can’t deal with that, well there’s always other more open-minded clients who want your personality to shine through instead of churn out press releases. Soft sell is the way to go.

Thus, I have decided to write a post under FINE (which is FICTION BTW, none of this is true – the disclaimer is not for commercial but personal reasons ;))
 
No Strings Attached

you know who

Now how many times have I heard that line? I’ve always maintained a healthy skepticism whenever someone says that. There are usually invisible cords after the deed. No strings attached? There’s no such thing as a free lunch.

The CLOSEST I ever got to NSA (not National Security Agency) was this girl who left after doing the horizontal boogie but still grumbled.

However, I met this girl 2 years ago who is fucking hot and intelligent to boot. Please refer to the photo above – mosaic-ed and blurred to the point that you can’t differentiate it from an edelweiss from the Alps. I’m not going to show any original photos, hell no way Jose.

Anyway, the second time I met her, the conversation steered to relationships. It somehow meandered into the No Strings Attached (TM) question.

“No strings attached”, she said.

Hmm…I was doubtful. If I had a dollar for every time I hear that I’ll be a motherfucking billionaire by now. Well, maybe not la, but you get my point.

I tested and prodded, pushing the boundaries, telling her exactly how it’s going to pan out. We had lunch and adjourned to my place where we both knew what was going to happen (I know you’re reading this, so don’t deny it – you knew ;)).

Anyway, after making out for a while, I went down on her before penetrating her.

“Don’t come inside me”, she whispered as I drove my cock shaft into her warm and wet cunt.

I’ve had a couple of drinks so the quality of my erection was rather substandard. She moved into the 69 position for a while before doing a reverse cowgirl.

That was the image that I remember the most – the experience burned into my retina and my mind’s eye:

Her unique ability to bend her body so far down that all I see is her perfectly toned and shaped ass.

Did I mention that she has a smoking hot body? Lean as fuck – All killer, no filler.

Well, I can’t come that fast when I’m drinking so after a couple of positions (also remembered going doggy style) I went down and fingered and licked her clitoris till she came.

The interesting bit is she doesn’t make a sound when she’s coming. She had a really good reason for that but I’m not going to write it down lest inference and extrapolation identifies the female protagonist.

I still haven’t come yet so I asked if she swallows. She said it’ll be weird to after I’ve fucked her. Fair enough.

Can I come on you then?

This is not a question I usually ask coz it doesn’t really matter to me whether I do or not. I don’t particularly enjoy it, it doesn’t make a difference. However, since the answer was yes, I came all over her perfectly shaped tits.

Anyway, this isn’t an erotic story, it’ll have more smoky details to it if it were – this is meant to illustrate the No Strings Attached (TM) oxymoron.

It was the very first No Strings Attached relationship I’ve been in – she didn’t expect me to call or anything like that…and I have much respect for that. A person, nay a wild horse like me, something that cannot be tamed – kindred souls.
 
No strings attached, no Fine Print (TM).
 
You have proved me wrong eh. ;)

A Question of Etiquette

You’re right down there, doing the horizontal boogie with this girl when out of the corner of your eye; you see a text message come in from this girl you slept with the night before.

“I just tested positive for (insert communicable STD). Please see a doctor before you have sex with another girl.”

What do you do?

Do you pull the brakes on the entire enterprise, knowing full well the damage has already been done, or do you finish what you’ve started?

A question of etiquette…

can-you-dig-300x250-2

Got your attention? This post is entirely fictional. DIG.IT.ALL is the largest outdoor music festival to hit the shores of Malaysia. Get your tickets in ruumz!

P/S - This is not an advertorial. It’s just a favor for LiLian to help promote the event. Besides, which client in their right mind would approve a copy like this? ;) 

The Lift

the lift

The elevator doors opened. I walked in, saw someone coming from the side of my eye and held the lift open. She is probably around 35 or so, carrying grocery bags, wearing a skirt and a white top with a dragon tattoo on her left arm. She’s not unattractive, most people won’t kick her out of bed, but she’s not the type that makes the XY Chromosome brothers do a double take either.

I pressed 9 for my floor. She reached over, paused and smiled at me.

I smiled politely back. I was tired from work and I just wanted to get home and write a bit more before sleeping.

“Which side are you at?” she asked while favoring me with a smile.

“I’m over that side” says I, pointing towards the front of the moving elevator.

“Oh, I’m over that side,” she said pointing in the opposite direction.

“So…do you live alone?” the mysterious stranger continued, her words pregnant with meaning.

“Yeah. You?” I asked non-committally while weighing the odds of a rendezvous with this representative of the female species.

“Same here”, she replied while holding my gaze suggestively.

The lift door opened.

“Nice tattoo” I said, gesturing at her left arm, before walking towards my condo.

I heard her say “Thanks” from behind me.

I could have offered to help with her groceries. I know where this would lead. It’s Familiar Territory (TM).

Male: Here, let me help you with your bags.
Female: Thanks! *opens door* Do you want a drink or something? Come on in.
Male: You must be tired from all that walking. Let me give you a foot massage.
(scene fades to black, cue faint moans)

I didn’t though. I was so tired from work that I just wanted to get home. I opened my door, looked over. She was still at her condo entrance at the end of the corridor, looking at me, smiling.

I smiled back and walked into my apartment.

Why the hell did I sleep with you?

bedtime stories

I was sharing the Rule of Three during a post-coital conversation with my partner. The Rule of Three, for the uninitiated, is the formula which aims to nullify male bravado and female diffidence with regards to the number of sexual partners.

The formula goes:
Male:
Take number of sexual partners and divide by 3
Female: Take number of sexual partners and multiply by 3

My partner told me she only had one prior sexual partner – her ex-boyfriend. I told her that according to The Rule of Three – that means she actually slept with 3 guys (multiply by three for females). I’ve told her previously that I’ve had 3 sexual partners in the past so she’s the forth.

HB: Thus, according to The Rule of Three, I’ve only had one – 4 divided by 3 leaves one, so you’re the first. :)
XX: I don’t believe that.
HB: Yeah, I told you the truth the first time, I’ve only slept with three of my ex-girlfriends before.
XX: Why the hell did I sleep with you?

………….

XX: Coz I really do like you.
(This was said after 3 minutes as she took off her clothes to take a shower. The 3 minutes was spent diligently typing the entire conversation on my cell phone with one hand. One thumb rather. With her watching over my shoulder. I was LMAO the entire time.)

………….

(after the shower)
XX: You’re the only guy I spontaneously slept with. I’ve only known you for two days. I still don’t know why I slept with you.
(after a minute of pondering)
XX: Okay, I do know. I like you. You’re only the second guy I slept with.
(after looking at me for my reaction)
XX: Damn, I should not have fallen for that smile of yours in the first place.
(after a pause while smiling at me)
XX: Hey, if I said I actually did fall in love with you in the past few days, would you believe me?
HB: Yes, I would. :)

…now go to sleep, we’ve got work tomorrow.

sixthseal.com presents – Rehab anecdotes: Koko Krunch

koko krunch

The new guy wolfed down the Koko Krunch (a sweetened cereal) with the milk his parents brought him as though afraid we might grab it from him and have it for ourselves. We had formed a pretty nice and tight clique by this time, the only ones with cigarettes inside the center. Fong with the money, Ming with the means, Seng with the might and me.

I don’t know why they took a liking to me, to be honest. I was tough, and showed it when confronted the first time I went in. Respect? I asked at the end of my stay and it turned out that they found me “different” and “interesting”. I’m not the usual type found in drug rehabilitation centers. I’m intelligent and possess a certain charm that got us away with little more than a slap on the wrist from the center’s administration.

Different – that’s the quality that got me into the crème de la crème clique.

We have been watching the new kid for a while now; inmates tend to regards the newbies with more than a little suspicion, if not downright hostility. He doesn’t share his goods and eats his bowl of Koko Krunch TOGETHER with the center’s ration of noodles (for breakfast), rice (for lunch) and biscuits (for supper).

It’s a cardinal sin according to the law of the jungle, I mean, rehab.

He probably sensed our hostility towards him and made overt attempts to get back in our good books. He knows we’ve been smoking and wanted in. He has nothing to offer in return (and neither did I, and to this day I still wonder why I was invited in the first place) and his selfish acts did nothing to gain our favor. He’s also a methamphetamine user – as most of us in there are.

I think he figured out our rules the second time his parents visited him, bearing gifts of two extra large boxes of Kellogg’s Chocolate Frosted Flakes and 2 liters of milk. He quietly arranged five plastic bowls on the table after lunch and opened all two boxes and started dividing it into the five bowls.

Ming: What are you doing?
Newbie: It’s my treat, I want you all to have this too.
Fong: Never heard you say that the first time your parents gave you stuff.
Newbie: Well…now that I’ve gotten to know you guys better…
Me: I don’t feel like I know you at all.
Seng: Yeah, and don’t think we don’t know why you’re doing this. You want in on the cigarettes right?
Newbie: No, it’s not that at all…though it would be nice…

We proceeded to help ourselves to several bowls of the stuff. He only ate a single lonely bowl, taking care to choose the one with the least cereal inside in a last ditch attempt at establishing good will.

We never invited him to either our afternoon or night contraband cigarette breaks.

The rule of the jungle…

You’re either the pack of hyenas, or you’re the dead carcass.

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